


To Fly Within a Cage

by Capucine



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Damian Wayne Feels, Drabble, Gen, Harm to Children, Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:36:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: Damian faces off with his grandfather as a test of his skill--and does poorly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Song of the Caged Bird by Lindsey Stirling! I am full of drabble inspiration today, apparently.

“I hope this lesson has been taught,” came the haughty tones, a voice that meant danger and being crushed back down.

And Damian could only grit his teeth, tears burning his eyes.

His grandfather was the most severe of punishers, and he knew how to make it hurt. Not just physically—Damian knew how to deal with _pain_ alone.

But he’d bitten his own tongue in fighting the man he was supposed to be the heir to, when his head was snapped to the ground. His jaw had closed with the impact, and he had a mouth full of blood to show for it.

And the fact that his grandfather was pressing his head to the ground, literally standing on him in triumph.

He hadn’t trained enough. He hadn’t been ready to prove that he was _strong_ , that he’d been advancing in skill, that he deserved to be the heir to the Demon’s Head.

He hadn’t landed a single touch, much less a blow.

He could feel his mother’s eyes on his back. He could feel the disappointment crushing him.

And suddenly, he was kicked back, tumbling over himself.

“Bring him back when he’s trained better,” Ra’s said, tone full of disgust and not even bothering to look at Damian. 

He was expected to get to his feet himself. So he pushed himself up, ignoring the throb that went through his arm, and also the one in his chest. The one that said he did so poorly, they might kill him. They might dispose of him.

“As you wish, father,” his mother said, tone barely not the razor sharp edge of a blade, and he respectfully returned to her side.

They left.

He didn’t get the sharp rebuke he expected from his mother, which only furthered his confusion.

Instead, she stared ahead, as their vehicle took them elsewhere. She stared ahead silently, seemingly lost in thought. Didn’t so much as tell Damian he’d done poorly.

And then she sent him on to his room, with instructions to be tended to by a doctor.

He didn’t know what to make of it, but he wasn’t about to question it—or not snap at the doctor to treat his arm more carefully.

No one knew what would come the next day, or the next. He couldn’t waste his time on pretending he liked anyone, or cared what they thought.

There was, curiously, no retribution for his failure, but he applied himself to training like never before.

**Author's Note:**

> This...is kinda how I view Damian's upbringing. Just not knowing anything else. And Talia perhaps having moments of regret.


End file.
